


Beyond the pale (Everything's black, no turning back)

by orphan_account



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: Cheating, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, Love/Hate, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Song: If I Was Your Vampire, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21954454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Brian shouldn't be here. Trent shouldn't have let him come here.
Relationships: Marilyn Manson/Dita Von Teese, Marilyn Manson/Trent Reznor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Beyond the pale (Everything's black, no turning back)

**Author's Note:**

> look, look. i wrote this in one go, and don't want to look at it long enough to properly edit. i absolutely regret it. this is entirely based off if i was your vampire, and as always, this is a work of fiction. none of this happened, and the people this is based upon are not associated with anything i have written here.

"You should probably go."

"Give it a bit. I'll leave before the sun comes up." 

Trent nodded, barely, before Brian pulled him in closer and wrapped his fingers around the back of his head. He didn't resist, and buried his face in the man's shoulder, giving into his empty embrace.

He didn't like this.

Why did he let him in here? In his home? 

Trent couldn't will himself to get up, though. He just couldn't push Brian out the fucking door, no matter how badly he wanted to.

As much as he hated admitting it, he missed this. He missed those cold hands and the way his hair smelled like too much conditioner and his loud raspy voice and _him._

There was more familiarity in Brian's arms than he would liked to say, but this was wrong. Very wrong. He had a fucking wife.

When he came over unannounced at two AM, Trent knew exactly what would come of this and even more aware that he'd loathe himself afterwards.

And yet, he welcomed him in without a second question.

Why was he so vulnerable?

They both laid there, silently, for a few minutes. Every once in a while, Brian would slip his leg further up Trent's hip and at some point he accepted it, letting his hand come to rest on the taller man's thigh. 

Eventually, Brian moved his fingers from his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Trent reluctantly lifted his head to look at him, not wanting to acknowledge him. 

Although painfully sober, his eyes were not guilty. As harshly as Trent searched his face for some kind of shame, remorse, _anything_ that said Brian felt as bad as he did, there was nothing. He wore the same somber expression that he always did, remains of his lipstick streaked down his chin and all over Trent's pillow. 

He held his gaze for a while before looking away, biting the inside of his lip. 

This was a terrible reminder as to why he cut Brian out in the first place. There wasn't a thought in his head that wasn't centered around himself. 

"Trent,"

He never thought about how his actions would affect others. Only as to whether it benefited him in the moment. Never felt guilty about it either.

"Trent,"

It was only so long until his world crashed down around him, and came crawling back to his doorstep, looking for sympathy or a quick fuck, and he always gave it to him. Why did he do this to himself? Brian would never return the favor.

"Trent, can--"

"Jesus fucking Christ, what's your problem?"

"What?"

He didn't like that tone. He sat up right away.

"Why do you do this to people? I'm so tired of this bullshit. I can't keep doing this for you."

Trent's voice had softened once again, but he was only growing more upset. 

"The hell do you mean? I don't--"

"This! This, man, I mean _this._ Get out of my house."

Brian looked taken aback, but he seemed to understand. He slithered off to the edge of the bed, and reached for his boxers. Trent held his own head.

"You can't keep doing this to me. You'll have to find somebody else. I can't deal with your shit anymore. I'm not- fucking, I'm not. I'm not."

"You're not?"

Brian muttered under his breath mockingly as he finished buttoning his slacks, and Trent nearly punched him. 

"Get out! Just leave me the hell alone, alright? How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone? I don't want you here." 

By now he was shouting, and his chest hurt. It always ended like this, too. They'd fight and one of them, usually Trent, would kick the other out. Rinse and repeat two or three months later. Brian's spouse, whatever the hell her name was, either remained blissfully unaware of her husband's outer lives or simply refused to confront him about it. He felt disgusting.

" _Jeez, fuck, I'm going, alright? I'm going, look, I'm fucking leaving!"_

The other man hissed, still pulling his jacket on as he peeled out the door, loudly jerking it shut behind him. Trent wanted to scream.

It was bound to happen again, as long as Brian was a shameless prick who couldn't keep his dick in his pants and Trent was stupid and desperate for somebody else's touch. 

He faintly heard the front door slam, again, and hid his face in his hands.


End file.
